


You Made Me Good, You Made Me Bad, You Made Me Dirty

by eddismars



Series: High School Musical(s) [1]
Category: All Time Low (Band), Bandom, Emo Quartet - Fandom, Fall Out Boy, Halsey (Musician), My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots, emo trinity - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Depressed Tyler Joseph, Emo, F/M, Fluff, Gay, High School AU, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Overdose, School Musical AU, ace!patrick, brendon and dallon are cute together, coffee shop AU, dpd tyler joseph, insomniac tyler joseph, josh and ashley are good friends, musical AU, ryan has a massive unrequited crush on brendon, ryan has to direct the school musical, straight edge andy hurley, tyler works in a coffee shop part time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddismars/pseuds/eddismars
Summary: Sure, Ryan hadn’t known that he was going to be writing the musical but the fact that the principal didn’t think him capable of doing it by himself was honestly insulting. Plus, being partnered with some guy called Tyler in his year that had been encouraged to participate in extra curricular activities by his therapist, and some junior who was being forced to join the musical as a punishment, was much less than ideal.However, this was his senior year, his musical, and he sure as hell was gonna make it worth it.





	1. prologue i. how cruel is the golden rule?

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for clicking on my fic :0  
> ok so the description is actually for chapter 2, but it'll all make sense I promise!!  
> chapter one is a bit fast paced and will be edited soon, but i just really wanted to upload this :)  
> (chapter title from Golden by Fall Out Boy)  
> happy reading ~ E

Tyler was awake. At 3:02am. Probably not the best decision, he mused, but it wasn’t something he could exactly control. He stared blankly at the overly bright screen of his phone; waiting for a text he knew was never coming. He had spent most of the night (well, morning) like this, hoping and even praying Jenna would text him back.

Sure, to most people it seemed that they had broken up, but Tyler knew (or at least thought he knew) the truth. She had eventually just stopped visiting him at hospital, and then stopped messaging him too. So had Chris and Nick, and now he had moved schools for senior year, it was harder to keep in contact anyway. Tyler understood really, it was hard to know what to say to someone in his position, and hospital visits were inconvenient. Everyone had stopped them eventually, except for his parents. They pitied him, and although he preferred that to being flat-out ignored, it all seemed a bit fake.

It wasn’t like he had tried to kill himself or anything. Well, okay, that was exactly what had happened, but he didn’t want fake pity. Tyler was fed up with fake people. He was a smart kid, but Tyler knew that he certainly was not Straight A (or straight for that matter), and knew the teachers were simply giving him pity points.

Tyler was a senior for God’s sake, not a charity case, and he was gonna prove it.

* * *

 

“How are you feeling today Tyler?”

‘ _Fan-frickin’-tastic,_ ’ Tyler wanted to say, instead letting a simple “Fine” slip from his lips.

“Fine?” Ms. Wetherby, the school guidance counsellor asked. “Care to elaborate?”

‘ _Not particularly,_ ’ Tyler thought.

“Kinda bored I guess.”

“Bored?” She replied.

“That _is_ what I said, is it not?”

“It is, but there’s no need to be sarcastic, Tyler, I simply wanted you to explain.”

A disapproving look from Ms. Wetherby.

‘ _Dammit, I thought that was another one of my sassy self-comments._ ’

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay, Tyler. So – bored?”

“Yes. Bored. I would much prefer to be working in the music studios during my free periods than going to therapy,” Tyler said, looking slightly past Ms. Wetherby, at the bookshelf on the wall.

“You know we need to check up on you Tyler, but I’m sorry it interferes with your free time.” Ms. Wetherby appeared to be genuinely sorry. Tyler made a mental note to add her to his list of ‘not fake people’.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the therapist looking at Tyler, and Tyler looking anywhere else.

“So. Did you follow my advice about joining the school musical this year? I think it could be a great opportunity for you to make new friends, and to have a positive outlet for your music.” Ms. Wetherby smiled gently at him. “So did you sign up?” 

Tyler didn’t answer immediately. True, he had _considered_ it, but had ultimately decided against it. He only had one year of high school left and was still considered the new kid; he could make friends at college.

“Yes,” he lied, “I did.”

* * *

 

Tyler liked his job at Parker’s Tree. It was a small coffee shop on the outskirts of town, so he rarely ran into anyone from school. Plus – every night was open mic night, so by choosing a night shift, he could easily listen to local acts.

After lying through his teeth about the school musical to Ms. Wetherby, Tyler had endured another unsurprisingly boring day at school (why was he always bored?), gone home and not bothered to do any homework, then head out to work. His insomnia meant he would have time to do homework later, and the teachers would give him an A whether he did it or not.

Most of the time, being a barista was fun. Tyler had the last shift of the day meaning that it was usually quite empty, so it gave him a space to think, and write lyrics in peace. He had always thought it was strange that a _coffee shop_ had open mic night, but there weren’t many bars across town, and it gave younger musicians a chance to perform. On this lousy Tuesday it was raining. Tyler didn’t mind the rain, in fact he loved it, but it did serve as a sort of pathetic fallacy. It was especially deserted tonight. A few regulars (yes, a coffee shop had regulars); some stragglers; and a large, sandy haired kid on stage setting up the keyboard. Oh and Tyler, of course.

As the person on stage turned around, Tyler realised that it was Patrick Stump, the slightly pudgy kid who sat in front of him in music. Funny, Tyler knew he was good at guitar, and had heard him sing a couple of times, but Patrick never struck him as a pianist. However, as soon as he started playing, Tyler was blown away.

“Hey, I’m Patrick, and this is Golden.

_How cruel is the golden rule?_

_When the lives we lived are only golden-plated._

_And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me,_

_Though I carried karats for everyone to see…_ ”

His voice was deep and soulful, and much better than Tyler had ever expected it to be. The emotions of the song were clear and extremely raw. There was pain behind them but they were well written, and Tyler respected that.

“ _And all of the mothers raise their babies,_

_To stay away from me,_

_And pray they don’t grow up to be…_

Thank you.”

Tyler didn’t realise how loudly he was clapping until he noticed that everyone was staring at him, including Patrick, who hadn’t seemed to have recognised Tyler up until this point. Upon noticing him, however, Patrick waved and made his way towards Tyler, and sat on a barstool.

“I didn’t know that you worked here! I chose this place because I didn’t expect anyone from school to show up!”

“Same,” Tyler smirked. “You were amazing, Patrick! I didn’t know you had that in you, man!”

Patrick chuckled shyly. “Thanks. It’s nothing really… Just a hobby, y’know?”

“Are you kidding me?” Tyler stared at him with extremely wide eyes. “A hobby? Wow. Why don’t you sing like that in music?”

Patrick quickly looked down at his lap. “I don’t like to draw attention to my self, really.”

“Ah, me neither.” Tyler smiled warmly at him.

“So,” Patrick looked back up at Tyler, “When are _you_ gonna perform?”

“Me?!” He paused, shocked. “I-I’m no good… I would never!”  
‘Now it’s my chance to say ‘are you kidding me?’ I heard you working on that chord progression in the music studio yesterday,” Patrick looked down again, sheepishly, and began humming an all too familiar tune.

“Oh. You mean Taxi Cab?” Tyler muttered.

“Hmm?”

“Taxi Cab, it’s er, the name of the song.”  
Patrick brightened immediately. “So it’s more than a chord progression now huh? It’s a ‘song’ hmm? That means you’re singing it. Right now!”

“What?!” Patrick had grabbed Tyler’s arm and was now pulling him out from behind the bar. “But I haven’t even finished the lyrics! And I-“

“I don’t care!” Taunted Patrick in a singsong voice. Tyler had reached the piano now and could see Patrick reaching for the microphone.

“This is Tyler and he’ll be singing ‘Taxi Cab’. Enjoy!” A cheeky grin, and he was gone. _Dammit_.

“Umm yeah… As he said.” Tyler reached for the keys, calming instantly at the way they instantly seemed to meld with his fingers.

_Breathe._

“ _I wanna fall inside your ghost,_

_And fill up every hole inside my mind…_ ”

Maybe Tyler would join the musical after all.


	2. prologue ii. just to register emotion, jealousy, devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chapter title from If I Only I Had A Heart from The Wizard Of Oz)
> 
> ~ E

Ryan was stressed. When he had signed up to direct the school musical, he hadn’t anticipated that he would have to create, write, and produce it too. It made sense, he reasoned, as he _was_ studying Music, Drama, and English Lit, but he only had six months to create a whole storyline with accompanying pieces of musical genius – as he was planning on making it the best he possibly could. Still, that didn’t excuse the fact that it was going to be hard, and the assisting crew he had been provided with weren’t exactly cut from the same star material that he was. Just a guy called Tyler in his year that had been encouraged to participate in extra curricular activities by his therapist, and some junior who was being forced to join the musical as a punishment.

Great. Just great.

Ryan practically marched through the corridors to his locker. The idea of writing music with two students that he was pretty sure he had never met (except for perhaps that Tyler guy, he was in Ryan’s music class), was both terrifying and extremely patronising. After grabbing his English folder and Math textbook, Ryan headed off to the study hall.

Sure, Ryan hadn’t known that he was going to be writing the musical (he had wanted to do The Wizard Of Oz or something), but the fact that the principal didn’t think him capable of doing it by himself was honestly insulting. He _could_ make them in charge of stage crew, but he didn’t want to insult the already existing tech crew or art students. Plus, he didn’t want to get in trouble with the principal.

This was his senior year, his musical, and he sure as hell was gonna make it worth it.

* * *

 

Ryan signed in on the register by the door to the study hall, seeing a messy scrawl resembling ‘Biden Urine’ above his neatly scribed ‘Ryan Ross’. He guessed that meant that Brendon was here, or at least was pretending to be studying whilst skiving off and smoking with his friends - not that Ryan cared whether Brendon was there or not – it wasn’t his business.

Ryan put his English folder down on a table at the back of the room and pulled his notes on Great Expectations out, sighing as thought about the 2,000 word essay due next period that he still hadn’t started. Ryan was just sitting down when he saw his friends Linda and Spencer walking towards him, hand in hand. Spencer gave him a curt nod coupled with a tight-lipped smile as Linda pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Still haven’t done the English homework, huh?” Asked Linda with a smirk, lifting her bag onto the table. “You can copy off of mine if you want, but I copied off of Sarah who copied off of Kenny, so… I don’t know how reliable it is,” she finished with a chuckle. Ryan smiled apologetically and took the sheets of paper Linda was offering him with a mumbled thanks, placing it next to his own – blank – page, and began copying across, changing every few words to make it look less like the original.

“How did your meeting with the principle go?” Asked Spencer, pulling out his Chemistry book, flicking to a blank page and continuing to work on his research project.

"Bad. Turns out I have to create a whole musical as our school is too cheap to get the royalties to perform anything else." Said Ryan, rolling his eyes.

Spencer smiled apologetically. “Tough luck, dude. I’d offer to help but I don’t really write and I can’t sing so…”

“No I understand, hah, it’ll be fine – I think Tyler writes and anyway we’ll hold auditions for the cast. You play drums – right?”

“Yeah I do, but who’s Tyler?” Spencer replied, furrowing his brow.

Ryan was about to reply when the three of them suddenly heard very raised voices coming from between two bookcases to the right of their table.

“But missssss you _can’t_ kick me out – look I’m reeeeading!” The sound of many heavy books falling to the ground.

“OUT! I will NOT permit you drinking alcohol in MY library!” Screeched the librarian. The first speaker stumbled forwards out of the aisle, revealing himself to the three students at the table as non other than Pete Wentz.

“Alcohol? Me? Never!” He yelled, unconvincingly.

“Dude – you’re drunk. Go home.”

Another voice.

Brendon. 

Ryan averted his eyes from the scene and looked down at his still unfinished essay. Of course Brendon was there. How could he have forgotten for one second the type of people that Brendon liked to socialise with?

After a few minutes the librarian had finally managed to remove Pete from the study hall, even trying to force Brendon to leave as he was apparently an ‘instigator’. Eventually he shrugged out of the vice like grip she had on his shoulder and strutted back towards the bookcase to retrieve his bag. However, on his way out, Brendon stopped at Ryan’s table.

“I overheard you saying that you were in charge of the school musical,” he said, almost accusingly.

Ryan looked up at him, confused but equally enthused. “Yeah I am, are you interested in auditioning?”

“For a musical. That _you_ wrote.” Again, Brendon seemed to be accusing Ryan of some dreadful crime. “Dude, that’s the gayest thing I’ve heard since my coming out. I’ll pass.” And with that, as well as one of his signature wry smirks, Brendon was gone.

* * *

 

Ryan couldn’t concentrate at all throughout English. So many thoughts were running through his head at once, all at completely different velocities, and it was becoming unbearably difficult to deal with. 

First of all, he couldn’t care less about the ways that Pip and Magwitch’s relationship echoed that of Estella and Miss Havisham, and given up paying attention. Sarah Orzechowski had stopped letting him copy her notes over 20 minutes ago and although he knew that Mrs Barakat would set homework based on the day’s lesson – he just plainly didn’t care.

Secondly, Brendon’s words were still ringing in his ears. What had he meant by it? Why did he even bother to approach Ryan about the musical if all he wanted to do was make a semi-well executed gay joke? That also struck a chord with Ryan. He knew that Brendon had been with a couple of guys before – but coming out? Not that Ryan wanted to date Brendon or anything – ‘ _I mean,_ ’ he thought, ‘ _everyone knows that he’s a complete asshole._ ’ But still, there was still a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that no amount of cigarettes could make Brendon taste bad. Gross. He pushed this thought away very violently, forcefully dragging his eyes to look at the whiteboard, but allowed them to slip over to the clock.

‘ _Damn it, still 20 more minutes of this hell._ ’ Ryan thought, slumping down into his chair and pulling his notepad towards him, still left open with a few choice words written down.

Musical ideas:

  * Cheating
  * Radio?
  * Death?!?



Even his creative brain had shut down. Great.

Ryan threw the notepad down on top of his English folder a little too roughly, causing Sarah to let out a shriek of surprise, catching the attention of Mrs Barakat, Linda, and the one and only Brendon Urie himself – the man of the hour. “Sorry, Miss,” Ryan said sheepishly, before the teacher continued on with the most boring lesson he had ever had the displeasure of experiencing. Catching the smug look on Brendon’s face, Ryan instantly titled his head back down to his work, feeling more heat rush to his already flushed cheeks. Sure, Brendon was an asshole, but he was a popular asshole, and Ryan did not want to spend his senior year being bullied any more than he already was for his extensive scarf collection… among other factors of course. 

A sudden vibration from his pocket drew Ryan’s attention to the fact that Linda had texted him.

‘ _You look angsty as shit– what’s up?_ ’

Ryan looked up and was halfway through trying to locate Linda, make eye contact and mouth ‘I’m fine,' until he realised that Mrs Barakat was standing over him, looking down sternly from over her glasses.

“You’re lucky that it’s the end of the day, Ross, otherwise I would have had to have confiscated your phone. Pack up your things everybody and-“ She was cut off by the sound of the bell and hundreds of students scraping their chairs quickly on the floor in order to get home as soon as possible – it was the weekend after all. “And don’t forget to collect the homework from me BEFORE YOU LEAVE!” She finished, raising her voice to a yell in a weak attempt to be heard.

After apologising to his English teacher and collecting the homework sheet (‘Compare the relationships of Pip and Magwitch, and Estella and Miss Havisham’), Ryan grabbed his things and rushed to meet Linda outside the classroom.

“Sorry that I got you in trouble with Braindead Barakat back there,” Linda joked as they walked to her locker, trying not to bump into a hoard of freshmen coming the opposite way. Why did they always insist on hanging out in massive groups?

“Nah, it’s chill. Do you wanna come over today – help me with this whole musical thing?” And for the rest of the evening, Ryan relaxed, laughed, and didn’t think about stupid Brendon Urie one bit. 

All was well.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks!! ~ E


End file.
